I shake the melancholy and listen to Brody spin out the story that was mine, and try to ignore the pull of the three people I called family.
***
He’s been trying to get in touch with me. I can’t talk to him, can’t hear his voice without hearing it hoarse and broken as he came inside me. And I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let that happen.
He texts a lot—more than I think Brody suspects, although he knows some of it. And I told Rike before I left Austin where I was going and that I would be back. But it’s been almost a month, and nothing has changed. I know more, but it’s secondhand knowledge, the kind that comes from hearing about something instead of experiencing it.
I know he wants me home. But so far, Rike has respected my boundaries.
Rike: What did you do today?
Me: Brody took me to a clothing store I used to love, and I bought a couple outfits. We’re having dinner with my parents this weekend, so I thought it was warranted.
Rike: You promised me you wouldn’t see them without me.
Me: I don’t remember making that promise. Besides, it’s harmless. Nothing will happen.
There is a long pause, and then he sends a short response.
Rike: Fine.
I stare at the phone for a long minute, waiting for something else, but there isn’t anything. So he’s mad, and I get to deal with my parents.
This week is looking better and better. I grab my notebook and crawl into bed.
I don’t write poetry often—despite it being something I love, I don’t think I’m very good at it. But as I stare at the blank page, the words start coming. And I write.
***
Brody glances at me as we walk up the paved walkway to my parents’ overly large house. He arches an eyebrow. “You ready, princess?”
I make a face and nod at him. He grins and shoves open the door, giving the housekeeper a quick kiss on the cheek before he yells, “Ma! Dad! We’re here.”
I swallow my laugh and follow him more slowly, hugging Maria before venturing deeper into the house.
It looks exactly like I remember. A house that could fit so easily in a magazine, the décor and pictures chosen to reflect who we are as a family rather than what we love. My nose wrinkles in annoyance, but there is no denying that the familiarity, so fucking rare these days, is comforting.
Brody is in the formal dining room, talking to my mother and Cassidy while Mom fiddles with a centerpiece of brilliant red roses. Her expression, when she finally looks at me, is confusing. There’s a flash of guilt and concern, and then it smoothes back into the bland polite smile she perfected years ago.
“Peyton. You look”—her gaze skims over my tight red sundress. It’s vintage, with wide, white straps and an oversized white bow. It’s almost demure. It would be, if I had buttoned all the buttons up the sweetheart neckline. Her lip tighten—“interesting.”
I smile, too sweet, “You look like you just stepped off the campaign trail. So I guess we’re both the same as we were yesterday.”
“Maybe don’t start fighting before we sit down to dinner, Peyton?” Cassidy says sharply. I ignore her. I’ve been doing that since before high school so it’s not terribly difficult to continue the trend now.
“Where is Dad?” I ask as Maria begins carrying in our dinner. I shift, look at Mom.
“He’ll be here soon,” she says stiffly. With that familiar cold displeasure.
She might be a good little campaigner, and do everything he needs in public, but Mom hasn’t ever appreciated the time commitments and how often she was left behind for it.
He lied to her too, when he decided to run for office. He promised that we would stay close, that nothing in our family would change. I think that’s why I hate him so much. I never told Rike that. But once upon a time, before politics and that fucking elusive Senate seat, Dad was a good dad. Attentive. Mom was cool, but she wasn’t cold.
That changed. Almost overnight.
I shove the thought aside, and follow Maria into the kitchen where I grab a plate of garlic chicken. She gives me a small smile.
“Really, Peyton, that’s her job.”
“And I’m helping. You understand getting help on a job, right, Cass?”
She flushes, and slams her glass down.
“Ah, here it is. The tension has arrived. Good times,” Brody deadpans. “Where are Sean and Lily?” There’s a moment of quiet, and then Brody groans. “Really? She’s gone already? But this one was only six months!”
“Maybe don’t bring it up. I know you’re still catching up but he wasn’t expecting it.”
My older brother is a serial cheater. How he can’t expect the women he dates to leave him, I’ll never understand. The bickering continues as we sit down and Mom waits patiently for Maria to serve her before we all make our plates. She glances at me, a potato speared on her fork.
“Peyton, have you gotten a dress for the gala next week? I have a few that would look lovely on you.”
My stomach lurches and I drop my fork, reaching for my wine instead. “What gala?”
“The one next week. The hospital is having it and your father is the keynote speaker. He expects you to attend.”
I don’t believe this. Except, I do. It’s a classic move for my father. I sit back with my wine and my mother’s brow furrows. “Eat, Peyton.”
“Not hungry,” I snap.
Cassidy smiles, a sharp brittle thing, “That’s normal, though, right?”
The dig at my eating disorder stings.
“Shut the fuck up, Cass,” Brody snaps, and I jerk to my feet.
Big hands close over my hips, pulling me back into a broad chest and the scent of soap and smoke. His beard brushes over my bare shoulder as he kisses my cheek, and then he glances up. At my family.
“Mrs. Collins,” he says coldly.
Mom is eyeing Rike like he’s a vagrant who wandered into her pristine house, and I have to swallow my giggle.
“I told you that Peyton is my responsibility. Mine to keep safe and keep healthy. That means I keep her the fuck away from you because you’re fucking toxic.” I gasp, twisting to stare at him. He’s watching my mother, loathing in his eyes. “She’s not yours anymore, not to manipulate. Stay the fuck away from her.”
Mom stands, her cheeks red and her hands shaking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this furious. “You have no right to even be here.”
He smiles, a lazy arrogant thing that makes my heart pound. “I have the only right.”
And then he escorts me out of my parent’s house.
Chapter 21 : Before
Scott is actually sitting on the new couch when I emerge from my bedroom. Lindsay and Peyton are in the kitchen, and I glance at my best friend in a rare moment without either present. “You good, dude?” I ask.
His eye flick to mine and I’m startled by what I see there. He looks peaceful. Content. That’s a look I’m not used to seeing on Scotty. It’s almost disturbing.
“I’m good,” he says, and the last band of unease loosens. Because it’s going to work. This. Us together, with the women we fucking adore. It’s going to work. He grins suddenly. “Broke in the new bed, huh?”
“You and Linds didn’t exactly go to sleep after bedtime prayers,” I deadpan.
He laughs, a satisfied noise. “Well, she did say ‘Oh God’ a lot, so I think that should totally count.”